


We Can Heal Together (Test Run)

by DickbagsMcgee



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Genre: An Attempt At Slow Burn, Ghirahim cries, M/M, Post-Canon, Slight Canon Divergence, mostly just doing the character building for Ghirahim that nintento won't
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:41:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24262993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DickbagsMcgee/pseuds/DickbagsMcgee
Relationships: Ghirahim/Link (Legend of Zelda)
Kudos: 15





	1. Discovery

Link liked it when it rained on the Surface. It was something that never happened on Skyloft, much like snow, or any weather that wasn’t a perfect sunny day. When it rained, the other Hylians always returned to the sky, finding the downpour unpleasant. Link, instead, stood outside the statue of Hylia and felt the rain drench him to the bone. It helped remind him that the months of horror and trauma he’d experienced on the Surface had been real.  
  
When he was around the other Hylians, they seemed so happy, so content, especially compared to himself. No one else had really gone through what he had, even Groose and Zelda didn’t experience those months as intensely as he did. Around the other Hylians, he could almost believe he’d made the whole thing up. But he always felt closer to the Surface when it rained.  
  
It was one such rainy day when Link found himself feeling particularly nostalgic, for better or worse. He journeyed through the rain to the Skyview Temple, abandoned since the first weeks of his travels. The deadly silence permeating the temple was so unlike what he knew, when the walls crawled with monsters and demons.  
  
Yes, demons. One in particular, dogging his steps across the entire Surface until he met his cruel end at the hands of his crueler master. Link somehow found himself comforted by the thought of him, once a constant in an unfamiliar world.  
  
That feeling of comfort got stronger as he approached the large circular hall which concealed the sacred spring, where he first faced the demon. This was the world he’d come to know better than his own bed, the clash of swords and breathless struggle for survival. Every time he faced the demon, he knew he came out the other side less naive, less childish and weak. He couldn’t have beaten the Demon King without him. Link supposed he owed him thanks for that.  
  
The sacred spring was as he remembered. The rain lightly disturbed the clear water around the statue of Hylia. Link sat down at the edge of the platform facing Hylia, looking up at her smiling face. Once finding her smile kind, he now looked at it as condescending. Irritatingly all-knowing.  
  
With the danger passed, Link had had time to reflect on his journey as the Hero. It had changed him. He jumped at every sound, every movement, reflexively reaching for a sword that no longer rested against his back. He had phantom pains from wounds long since healed. He no longer blamed his enemies for those fears and pains. Instead, he blamed Hylia.  
  
Link looked down at his feet, the smallest spark of guilt appearing in his mind. He was in a sacred place, at an altar of Hylia, and he had the gall to blame her. Of course he knew that guilt was ridiculous, Hylia almost deserved all the shit she got for putting him through what she did.  
  
Finally, he noticed the shadow glittering in the water at his feet. The shape was warped by the spring, so he jumped down into the water to pick it up. As soon as he did, he dropped it.  
  
It was the sword. Demise’s sword.  
  
His breath was locked in his chest, trying to escape, but he just couldn’t draw enough oxygen. He felt his hands start to shake. Why, in all fuck, was the demon sword in a sacred spring?  
  
A chime rang out in the air. It was a chime that, despite Link making some peace with his demon, still haunted his nightmares. He frantically looked around, trying to discern the origin, before returning his gaze to the sword. Its shape had changed. The jagged-edged blade had become polished black arms and legs, crossed with white diamond shapes.  
  
The demon lay motionless in the water as Link looked down at him, clenching and unclenching his fists repeatedly. He tried to calm his breathing.  
  
Then the demon’s eyes snapped open, revealing blank, milky white. Link jumped back, preparing for a fight, before the demon screamed.  
  
It was a horrible, grating sound, human shrieks layered with a harsh metallic ring. His eyes were once again squeezed shut, back arched against the ground of the spring. It spoke of nothing less than pure agony.  
  
Link watched in shocked silence as the demon reverted back to the form of a sword. He stood, watching, for too long. The rain above slowed and finally stopped, and then Link made a decision. He picked up the sword and left the temple.


	2. Reintroduction

The demon sword sat against the wall of Link’s home on the Surface for a few days. He tried to ignore its presence, but he often found his eyes drifting to it as he lay in bed awaiting sleep. He couldn't get that sound out of his head. Even the manic, “dying” laughter the demon had expressed a year before wasn’t as chilling as a creature so vain and prideful screaming unabashedly in clear, unimaginable pain.  
  
During the day, Link would go about helping Hylians adjust to life on the Surface. He was grateful for something to keep him busy, mostly because it took his mind off of the demon sword he took home on nothing more than a whim. He would help sow farms and build furniture as long as he could, so as to avoid retreating to his little cottage beside the great tree.  
  
For a week, the routine was unbroken. Then on the seventh day he came home to the demon’s sword spirit form lying on the floor. Link startled in the doorway, quickly scanning the demon’s figure for...something. He looked dead, save for the gentle rise and fall of his chest.  
  
Goddess, his chest. The large red gem embedded there, the equivalent of a heart, was shattered. Deep cracks ran through every inch of its surface. It looked like all the pieces would crumble if one so much as breathed on them. Guilt rose up in Link’s mind again. He had done that.  
  
The demon made a sound, a groan that sounded like pain. A far cry from the harrowing screams Link had heard before, but still concerning. Link hefted the demon over his shoulder and moved him to the bed. It was only a few feet, but Link was sweating. The demon was all muscle and metal, which was a very heavy combination.  
  
He pulled a chair from his small dining table up to his bedside and sat down. After a moment, the demon’s eyes fluttered open and he looked around, slowly trying to ascertain his surroundings, before he settled his gaze on Link.  
  
“Hero…” he wheezed, raising his hand to clutch at his gem.  
  
Link nodded, coughing with discomfort before saying, “Hey, Ghirahim.”  
  
The demon barked a laugh. “‘Hey’? Fucking ‘hey’? After everything you–” He cut himself off, coughing. Link made to put his hand on Ghirahim’s shoulder, but thought better of it.  
  
“I– Don’t push yourself,” Link said softly, voice slightly raspy from disuse. The demon scoffed at his concern, but didn’t argue. He was clearly still in a lot of pain.  
  
“Are–are you...okay? ” Link asked cautiously. He regretted it as soon as the words were in the air between them. He knew the answer perfectly well.  
  
Ghirahim groaned. “I’m fantastic, no thanks to you. Giving a demon spirit a nice, long soak in a sacred spring is a brilliant idea, the water works wonders on my hair,” he said, the strain in his voice not inhibiting his sarcasm at all.  
  
“How long were you in there?”  
  
“However am I supposed to know?” Ghirahim said with irritation, raising his arm to gesture dramatically, then dropping it with a hiss of pain. “How long ago did you...defeat us?” he asked, briefly stumbling over the words. Link almost didn’t notice the lapse in confidence.  
  
“...About a year ago.” Link replied with a sigh.  
  
Ghirahim rolled onto his side and made to stand up, but his legs buckled. With a tiny cry of pain, he fell back on the bed.  
  
“Don’t do that!” Link yelped, almost on accident. He schooled his concern into something a little less desperate, then asked again, “Are you okay?” He couldn’t articulate why he cared what happened to the demon. Maybe he didn’t want to try.  
  
“Well, between my crumbling heart and mysterious holy poisoning from a sacred spring, I’d say I’m simply thriving,” Ghirahim grunted, readjusting himself on the bed.  
  
Link was glad for the snark. It was familiar, normal behavior for Ghirahim, something Link could reconcile with his image of him. Even so, there was something defensive about it. He looked over Ghirahim’s core again, guilt renewing itself in his gut.  
  
“Sorry,” he said quietly.  
  
Ghirahim scoffed. “Don’t you dare apologize to me,” he said. Silence stretched between them, and Link wrung his hands in discomfort.  
  
He recognized within himself the want to make some amends. If Ghirahim would not accept an apology, maybe he would allow something less meaningless. He took a deep breath and asked, “What can I do?”  
  
“Nothing, as far as I know. I’m not particularly experienced with this predicament but I doubt you possess the capability to solve it.” He turned his gaze firmly on Link with suspicious eyes. “Why do you care?”  
  
Link hesitated. “I– I don’t know.”  
  
Ghirahim turned his head away, disinterested. He said to the wall, “I don’t want your pity, hero. Finish me while you have the chance.”  
  
Link stood up, sensing the definitive end to the conversation. “I’ll be outside,” he muttered, and left.


End file.
